A Beautiful Lie
by Neo Genesis1
Summary: It's very easy to get absorbed in your own personal world of dejection. It's easy to forget what matters. Until someone comes along and cuts it all to peaces. With a smile and a hatchet. Takes place in the year after AC and before DoC. Vincentcentric.
1. Hello, Goodbye

**Disclaimer**: Square Enix owns all rights to the Final Fantasy VII epic, including locations, plot, and characters. I claim no part of their ideas. All characters not originally in the video game or animated movies are my creations.

**Author's Note**: I don't really know where this is headed. I do know that once I've got a story in my head I have to put it in words. And Vincent has always been a hidden fascination of mine. Seeing as how I've never played the game (though I have an almost scary amount of knowledge on it) I've never had the guts to post a fic about it. This isn't my first attempt, though I hope it's significantly better then my previous one. Anyway, what I'm trying to say is don't take it too seriously. I'm just another silly fan girl trying to live vicariously in a different world.

This really is sort of a spur of the moment thing. I've been suffering with severe writers block lately, and maybe this will help it pass. Just don't expect frequent updates. I've got to finish my other stories and start the ones that I haven't.

**Dedications**: To my ever lovely Deedlets. He's no papi chulo, but he still makes you squeal uncontrollable every time he comes on screen. Just take deep breaths and we won't need to make a trip to the ER. Love ya girl!

Chapter One  
Hello, Goodbye

It was around one when Reina heard the soft knock on her door. She frowned and leaned back in her chair.

"Distractions, distractions," she muttered to herself as she eyed the paper in front of her. The makings of the drawing were rough and hasty. Mere outlines of what she visioned the finished piece to be. The fervor at she's started with hadn't waned in the hours that she'd been sitting there. Unfortunately, her hand and her mind's eye had too different ways of seeing things. The discarded pieces of newsprint and the much more expensive bristol thrown around the room were evidence of that. She'd just gotten the profile right and was beginning to make definition to the figures facial features when she was interrupted by the person at the door.

"I'll be right there."

She sighed, giving the drawing one last frustrated look before pushing back from the table and standing up. There was a kink in her lower back that she worked at with her hand as she headed out of the messy room to the front door.

It had been raining all morning, giving the town of Kalm a dreary and depressing ambience. Whenever the rain did cease, which was never more then half an hour or so, a heavy fog would obscure the streets and building fronts. It swallowed sound and light. Reina hated days like that, when everything seemed a little haunted.

She made her way down the hall. Through the fan shaped window on the door she could make out a crop of dark, disheveled hair. Whoever it was, they were a stranger.

"State your business," she called out, pushing her own hair out of her eyes. Her bangs were getting too long and she figured it was time go see about another cut.

"I saw the sign in the window," the stranger replied. From the tenor she could tell it was a male, the voice indistinct but weighty.

"OK. Just give me a second to find the key."

She glanced at the coat hanger nearby despite the fact that she already knew it wasn't hanging where it should be.

"I'm always losing the damn thing," she added, more for her own benefit then his. It hadn't been her idea to install the new lock but her close friend's, Lanice. She never did approve the idea of having her live in the house by herself. Lanice came from an old fashioned family, with even more old fashioned ideas. In her world, a lady didn't move out of her childhood home until she had the right security. Or in other words a husband. Reina sometimes questioned whether or not she really believed in such archaic ideas, after all she was best friends with her (and she'd never considered herself the most modest of persons.) Then again, Lanice did marry right out of grade school, so she supposed she believed in them enough.

Either way, after enough bickering over the issue, she finally caved in. Now in addition to the dead bolt that was already in place, another was added. But one which only opened with a key. Outside or in. After it was put in place, Reina turned to her friend and promptly declared that if she died of a house fire and she couldn't escape because she wasn't able to get the door open, she would remain here in spirit form just to be a pain in her rear. Only it wasn't said as nicely.

"_Oh honey, you already are pain in my rear,"_ was the unconcerned response she got._ "You're dinner's in the oven. Wash the plate this time before you bring it back. Do you know how hard it is to clean porcelain with three day old lasagna on it?"_

"_Yeah, yeah." _

She continued to sulk as she closed the door on her, making a point to use only the old lock. She got five steps away from the door when she heard her friend demand that she used both. The only thing that made her turn around and comply was the fact that Lanice had cursed. That happened on the rarest of occasions. Most of which involved her being mad, usually with her.

Since that day the key had been a constant problem. Routine was never the norm for her, and since she never made a habit of hanging the key someplace where it could be easily found she was constantly forgetting where she last put it. She couldn't even count how many times she'd been late simple because she couldn't get out of her house.

Her pockets came up empty when she searched them so she retraced her steps to the back room. The work table was key free, as was the floor when she started shifting the discarded papers around. Mumbling under her breath she headed to the kitchen, hoping that it was on the counter with the remains of breakfast that she'd picked up earlier.

Upon first look the kitchen also seemed to be keyless. But noticing the mess that had built up over the past few days she figured it couldn't hurt to tidy things up a little. Probably wouldn't look good to a possible tenant to see what an actual slob she was. It only took a few seconds to grab up the old bags and empty take-out containers.

The rain had started up again and she hurried past the window above the sink to the trash can. As she lifted up the lid she noticed something sticking out behind it. Tossing the trash, she bent over to retrieve it.

"Damn cat," She glared at the chewed up plastic ring. "This is the second time this week." It was her own fault really. Anything left on the counter was fair game to Mitten, her tabby. Sighing she returned to the front door.

"Sorry about that. I can never seem to keep track of my key. Genetic fault I guess," she stated as she slid it into the bottom lock and turned. "Both my parents would lose their heads if they weren't attached to their necks. I guess they passed that trait on to me.

"Also, I have a cat who thinks it's the best thing since sliced bread. He's always getting his fat paws on it."

She reached for the second lock. "I hope that doesn't bother you, the cat and all. He's not that big of a pain. Just don't leave your keys lying ar-"

She opened the door finally and seeing the man standing before her caused her to stop mid word.

"Oh!" she uttered without thinking about it. The key fell from her hand and landed on the wooden floor with a metallic clink that could barely be heard over the downpour.

The first thing that she noticed was his height. Which was ridiculous when considering all the other things that were unusual about him. But at a messily 5'2 it was easy to feel dwarfed by others. It was after she got over that shock that she saw his eyes, and the cape, and hand. If it could be called that. Taking a step back, partly out of surprise and partly out of intimidation, she returned her gaze back to his face and said the first thing that came to mind.

"You're... wet."

He glanced down at himself as if he hadn't realized it before she mentioned it. "I didn't expect rain."

Then he was looking at her with those strange eyes. She'd seen glowing eyes before by those infused with Mako, but never any in crimson. It was unnerving. Especially with half his face obscured by the equally red cloth.

"Who the hell wears a cape?"

Realizing she'd spoken out loud she cleared her throat, her cheeks and ears heating up with embarrassment.

"Um. The room right?" she shook her head, mentally kicking herself. Her big mouth always got her in trouble. And being rude was definitely not the way to find someone to rent the room. In an attempt to make up for stupidity, she opened the door wider and stepped to the side.

"Why don't you come in. I'll get you a towel or something to dry off and then we can talk."

"Thank you."

He nodded his head slightly and walked past her into the hallway. She watched him for a few seconds before grabbing the dropped key and closing the door behind her. She made no attempt to lock it, instead she stuck the key in her front pocket. The last thing she wanted was to be stuck in her own house with a man who looked as if he could crush her throat in with that claw if he felt so inclined.

"I'll get that towel. Just give me a second."

Reluctantly she turned her back to him and headed up the stairs while chanting, "I need the money" to herself quietly. The guy, whoever he was, gave her the creeps. But she needed someone to rent the extra room in her house. Her finances had been tight the past couple of months. People were more interested in repairing their lives then enriching them with art. She understood completely, but it was hurting her in the long run.

Her farther always said she needed some kind of hustle. Something extra to fall back on during hard times. Too bad she was such a hard head.

Reaching the landing she turned left into her bathroom and pulled a towel off the rack without turning on the light. The last person to come look at the room had been six weeks ago. Six agonizing weeks of eating packaged noodles and leaving the lights off at night simply because she couldn't afford the bill. Especially with the reactors out of the picture and the whole town converting to hydro power. The fall season was quickly coming to an end and she was going to need the heat. Winters in Kalm weren't forgiving.

If she didn't find a tenant soon her only option was to move back home. With her parents. The thought almost made her shudder.

She descended the stairs, expecting to see the dark haired stranger standing at the landing where she'd left him. But he wasn't.

"Great, didn't even give me a chance to really run him off."

Frowning, she gave the towel draped over her arm a disappointed glare before throwing it over the banister. With a defeated sigh she started back to her work room, fully intent on finishing the drawing that would probably never grace the walls of anyone's home let alone a gallery. Three steps down the hall she heard an unfamiliar noise over the pounding rain. It only lasted for a moment, but the tone echoed in her head for a few seconds. She stood there thoroughly confused until she realized where the noise came from. The piano in the living room.

"Hey mister, you still here?" she called out as she grabbed the towel and headed back towards the door. "I thought you ran out on me."

He was standing by the living room grand, the fingers of his right hand still lingering over the keys.

"Oy, be careful with that!"

He looked up at her, face placid and ashen in the light from a nearby window.

"It's a heirloom or something. My folks would boil me if it got damaged."

"Sorry."

Again with that hushed voice. He drew back his hand and stood staring at her. Oh yeah, the guy _really_ gave her the creeps.

"Don't worry about it. I'm just jumpy about this room. I don't really use it much. Most of the stuff in here is several generations old, and worth more then I've earned my entire life," she moved into the room and held out the towel for him to take. "I'm Reina, by the way."

"Vincent."

He ran the towel over his face and she was glad. His eyes were no longer on her. She guessed that was the reason he weirded her out so much. They were so unusual.

"It's nice to meet you," she took the towel back from him after he got finished passing it over his hair, leaving it more tousled then before. "I take it that you just arrived here. Haven't seen you around before."

He just nodded. She raised on eyebrow and crossed her arms. Wasn't much of a talker. "Well, the room is in the back. I can give you a tour of the place if you like."

He inclined his head and she backed out of the room, waiting for him to follow before she turned her back to him. The whole exchanged was uncomfortable, and she didn't like how he trailed behind her a few steps. Out of sight and eerily quiet. She kept glancing back to make sure he was in fact still there.

"The kitchen's right here," she explained while pausing in front of the doorway. "I don't cook much, so I don't really spend too much time in here. You'd pretty much have free reign if you do."

They continued down the hall, passing by a side table covered with framed photos. She caught their profiles in the mirror hanging above it. The light was poor, so their faces were obscured in shadows. It just made her look sickly, accentuating the area around her too wide nose and the hollows below her cheek bones. He, on the other hand, looked like an antiquated figure thrown into a time not of his own. The lack of light didn't make him seem washed out and anemic. Instead, there was a certain elegance about him that the darkness enhanced. For a second he lifted his head high enough the reveal his full face, with a straight and almost delicate nose and full bottom lip. Their eyes meet in the glass. She looked away, embarrassed again, but this time for being caught staring. Everything about him was intense. He would make a great model she thought. Something Gothic, with oils.

When they reached the end of the hall she stopped in front of the closed door. "It's already furnished. I can have the stuff moved into storage if you don't need it."

"That won't be necessary."

"Hmm," she nodded and opened the door, moving to side so that he could walk in. A moment later she'd flipped up the light switch, flooding the room with artificial yellow light.

"This is it. The bathroom is next to the stairs. If you decide to take the room, you'll have to share mine though. The plumbing's old and I've been having some problems with it lately. Especially since the whole Meteor bit. Foundations off, or something." When he didn't respond she went on. "Being the only one here I really haven't found the need to fix it.

He nodded. Again. And she sighed and crossed her arms, again, while watching him inspect the room. Finally he turned to back to her.

"Where is your bathroom?"

"Upstairs," she answered and unfolded her arms. "Come on, I'll show you."

They exited and she pointed to the room across the hall.

"That's my work area. Excuse the mess, but when inspiration hits I don't stop to pick up after myself." That wasn't exactly the truth. She made a mess pretty much in every area of the house, for the exception of the den and, thank God, the bathroom. "I spend most of my time in there. But I'm quiet."

After closing the door she went back down the hall again and up the stairs to the bathroom. Muffin was laying in the sink when she entered and she shook her head as she hung up the towel she'd still been caring

"That's the one I warned you about. He's made of sticky hate. He's the slayer of all things shinny, like keys, and anything that's worn on your feet."

She smiled, despite knowing there were few things more annoying then a person who laughed at their own jokes, but she was hopping to see some flicker of emotion on his stoic face. Then she realized he hadn't even been listening. Instead he was standing at the top of the stairs with his attention focused on her bedroom door.

"Hey, pal, the bathroom's over here."

He glanced at her, then the bathroom. "I've seen all I need." Then he went back down the stairs, leaving her there, very befuddled and a little ticked off.

"Um, OK."

She went after him, realizing that he'd gone down with barely a creak out of the old wood whereas she came pounding down with a sound akin to that of an avalanche.

"So does this mean you're not going to take the room, because I really-"

"Need the money," he finished for her. She stood there with her mouth hanging open before she collected herself.

"You heard that?"

He nodded. She winched.

"Look, mister. I may not be the politest and most reserved of people. But I'll stay out of your business and give you your space. That being said, I don't expect you'll find the same courtesy with anyone else in this town. They don't like new faces. Especially one's like yours. No offense." And then she held her breath. If he hadn't left before he was sure to now.

"How much is the rent?"

She exhaled and fell back, using the railing on the stairs to control her fall as she sat down. "250 gil. 300 during the winter. This house gets wicked cold. That includes utilities but not food. Like I said, I don't cook much. Usually bum off of friends or eat out."

"Are there any rules I should know about?"

She shrugged and pushed her hair out of her face. "A few. They're all written up with the lease. I can go get it for you and you can look it over."

Another nod. She got up and ran to the back room. It took her about a minute to produce the stapled papers in the chaotic state that the area was in. But she did and returned to the hallway.

"There's a sheet in the back, could you fill that out for me? It's just a way for me to contact you and a space for references." She handed him the papers and a pen that she'd miraculously thought of before she leaving the work room. After he finished with the form, she folded it up and stuck it in her pocket.

"That's it I guess. No last minute questions?" This time he didn't nod. He shook his head 'no.'

"Well, I'll see you out." She said good bye and waited until he'd made it off her porch before closing the door after him.

The first thing she did after searching again for a key, was to pick up her phone.

"Lanice. You'll never believe what just happened."

She heard several voices in the background before her friend answered. "What, you made your own dinner?"

"You wish," she smiled. "No, actually I was planning on coming over this evening. What's on the menu?"

"Liver and onions."

"Pass," she sat down on her bed. "Anyway, I had a guy come look at the room just now."

"Really? Who?"

"I don't know. He's from out of town."

There was a pause on the other end. "Well, did you get his name?"

"Of course I did, I'm not that forgetful."

"What is it?"

"V something or the other. I don't remember."

"Reina!"

"Calm down, he wrote it down. And before you ask, yes I gave him the lease papers to look over," she fished the paper out of her pocket and looked over it. "Vincent Valentine."

"What was he like? He didn't look like he'd rape then murder you did he?"

"Well, actually..."

"Seriously, Rei," Lanice sighed, "Do not rent the room out to just _any_ Joe Shmoe. He could be anyone. You just don't know."

"I know I need the money," she huffed as she rolled her eyes.

"I'd rather have you alive and miserable while staying with your parents then in mortal danger with some ragging lunatic. You can't trust everybody."

"Yeah. I know." There was a jingle jingle of a bell and Muffin appeared on the bed. "Hey you bad ass cat. Come 'ere you little stinker."

"Are you listening to me?"

"Yes, I heard you. I have his references. I'll call them this evening."

"Fine. I'm going to call down to the inn and see if he's staying there. Maybe Clint can shed some light on the guy. You said Valentine, right?"

"Yup."

"Call me later."

"Yes, mother."

"Har har, smart mouth. Bye."

She hung up the phone and laid back on the bed, absentmindedly petting the cat as she looked over the slanted writing on the paper in her hand.

"Lockheart and Highwind," she murmured. The names sounded familiar, but she couldn't place the faces or circumstances in which she heard them. After awhile she got up and when back downstairs. There was a drawing to be finished, even if only to insure her sanity.


	2. Dubiety

**Disclaimer:** Located on Chapter 1

**Author's Note**: I look forward to the day when I no longer feel the need to write these and let my stories (and all their madness) just be. Today's not that day.  
I try to be careful with original characters. I don't want to be one of _those_ writers. Reina could border on obnoxious if I let her, even more so now that I've decided to write in her point of view mostly. Please let me know if I cross that line.

A Beautiful Lie  
Dubiety

Her phone wouldn't stop ringing.

It woke her up that morning. She cursed it, glanced at the ID number, then silenced it and stuffed it under her pillow. But then it rang again, this time accompanied by that annoying buzzing option that vibrated her whole head and caused her nose to tickle. So at seven that morning, an hour she hadn't been aware existed in quite some time, Reina was up and talking into a plastic and metal contraption form of hell.

The first call had been her mother who was an expert at disrupting her morning routine, even when she was on an entirely different continent. She talked, and talked, and talked, and Reina did the customary "uh huh" and "really" when she felt it was appropriate. When she looked at the clock again it read 8:16, and she had yet to get a cup of coffee. It was bordering on blasphemy.

After she got off the line she made her way to the kitchen and put a pot of water on the stove. Then she got back in the bed, glaring at the cat as he sauntered around the top of her dresser and knocked off her hairbrush and pieces of jewelry. A few minutes later she was back in the kitchen with a steaming mug of instant and a less annoying, less hungry cat.

The phone rang again when she was halfway through her second cup and nibbling on her breakfast of turkey sandwich meat that was found tucked away in the back of this fridge. She didn't remember when she bought it, but she didn't remember a lot of things. Besides, it didn't smell rank and there was no mold, so it must have been alright. If not, she'd know when it killed her.

That call, too, was missed. And she stubbed her toe on the stairs in her hurry to catch it. It had only been Lanice, who rang her up again seconds later, knowing well her habit of misplacing everything that came into her possession. She told her she would be over around noon to supervise. Reina went along with her friend despite not having a clue what she was talking about.

While she was in the bathroom trying to finish up her morning constitution the phone rang again. She glanced up from filling tub, sighed, and walked out to answer it. She spent the next ten minutes talking to her brother, Tomas, who was currently on the hunt for a new house and wanted her to watch Tomas Jr. for a few days while.

"I'd send him to mom, but you know how she can be," he explained.

"Unrealistically overbearing with indulgence. Then T.J. returns home with a guilt complex and gout," she half joked, then let out a few expletives as she heard the water from the tap spilling over onto the floor. "Gotta go."

He promised to call her later on that evening. As she rushed to turn off the water she silently prayed he would forget. There wasn't another interruption until she was done with her bath, and that time it was the front door.

She was pulling on her robe when she heard the bolt snap open and she was able to peek down the stairs just in time to see Lanice closing and locking the door behind her.

"You're early," she greeted and tied the belt around her waist before pilling her hair out of the collar.

The other woman shrugged. "I got everybody in the house settled faster then I anticipated. Besides, I just wanted to get out of there."

Reina nodded in understanding. Lanice had a house full of people at the current moment since her parents thought it would be an excellent time for a visit. They wanted to be there when the new baby was born. He explanation of not being due for another two months fell on def ears.

"Let me get dressed. I'll be down in a second."

Fully clothed now, she made her way back downstairs with a yawn. Another cup of coffee was sounding real nice at the moment. But as she was setting more water to boil on the stove she saw Lanice walk into the room and start searching through the cabinets.

"Where's are all the cleaning products?" she asked over her shoulder.

"I think in the pantry. Why?"

"You haven't even cleaned the poor guys room," she said, giving her the same look she gave her children whenever they did something that deserved reprimand. The door didn't open when she tried it and Reina smiled to herself in private victory.

"Here, let me."

Moving Lanice out the way she grabbed the handle in both hands, pulled up then out. "It sticks a little. I think it's the humidity."

"You should get that fixed."

Reina snorted out a laugh. "Yes, along with the bathroom, the leak in the basement, the floors that need to be sanded and waxed, the window over the sink with a crack in it..."

"Alright I get your point. You're broke."

Lanice grabbed the blue bucket full of bottles and rags and brought it over to the table to inspect the labels. "You still should have cleaned his room, though."

Reina shrugged and went back to the stove. "It's only Tuesday. I've got another day to get things together." The water hadn't started to boil yet so she grabbed her mug from earlier and rinsed it out.

"Have you looked at a calendar?"

Giving Lanice an 'are you serious look' over her shoulder, she grabbed a towel to dry off her mug.

Her friend huffed. "When are you going to get your head out the clouds, Rei. Today _is_ Wednesday!"

"What?" she slapped her palm against her forehead. "Crap."

"You've got the brain of a goldfish," Lanice grinned.

"I hate Wednesdays," she muttered, ignoring her friend's comment as she went back to the stove to check the water.

"Hurry up in here, I'll be in the back room getting things in order. What time is Mr. Valentine supposed to be over?"

"Noon."

"Good. We've got almost an hour."

She watched Lanice pad down the hallway to the spare room, a woman on a mission, and shook her head.

"Don't over work yourself," she called after her.

"Just hurry up and make your coffee!"

She did, but took her time. There was no rushing chemistry. When she finally made it to the back room her eager friend had already swept the floor and stripped the bed.

"Have you another set of sheets? Clean ones?"

"Upstairs. But those _are_ clean."

"I'll worry about it later. Right now I need you to help me flip this mattress. And for goodness sake, open that window. It smells like an attic in here."

Reina gave her a hard look before glancing down at her coffee, then back at her. "You're a mad woman," she said quietly.

"And you're a rotter, but I love you anyway. Now get over here, this baby isn't old enough to participate in slave labor, so it's all on you."

"Fine," she sighed and sat her mug down on the dresser. "You should dust that, by the way. And I'm not a rotter. Lazy, yes. But I have my good qualities and plenty of skills, therefore I am not worthless. What have you been doing, anyway, reading the dictionary?"

"No," she said as they went to grab the mattress, "Joffrey has. My own son takes after you."

"Ah, a young man with taste. You should be pleased. He might just grow up to be an artistic genius."

"Yeah, with no sense of responsibility and a total lack of knowledge of what happens in the real world," her friend grunted as she lifted her end of the mattress, "You'll have to excuse me if I don't sound so enthusiastic."

The smile that had been playing one Reina's lips disappeared but Lanice seemed too occupied with getting the mattress onto it's other side to notice. When they were done, Reina crawled over the bed to release the latch on the window and opened it.

"What?" Lanice grinned as she she sat down on the bed next to her and ran a hand over her extended belly, "No witty comeback? You're slipping."

"Not enough caffeine," she said simply while standing, having a sudden need to get out of the room, "I'm going to go grab some more sheets. Be back in a sec."

She left the room and climbed the stairs slowly, trying very hard not to be upset by the teasing words that were said. The banter was normal between the two of them, an ongoing battle that they'd continued over many years. She knew it was all in jest and most days she would have taken the comment and run. But some days it hurt. And the way things had been going lately it was becoming more apparent that making ones own reality wasn't as realistic as she'd had hoped. It certainly didn't pay the bills, at any rate.

She would be thirty in a few months. It was a fact that weighed heavily on her conscience. Almost three decades with nothing to account for except a run down house and several failed attempts at trying to make something with her life. She'd gone to school for engineering. Halfway through she decided that, though she was damn good at it, math wasn't exactly a passion. So she bummed around Midgar for a long time, taking on odd jobs and moving from sector to sector. Though she never was forced below the plates, a small miracle in itself. It was in Sector 2 that she came across Magnolia Street Studios. Centered in the heart of the cities art district, Magnolia became her everything. It became her pulse. Under the discerning eye of Quincy Miers, she honed skills she never knew she possessed. Quincy was, by trade, a sculptor. But he was also a more then talented painter and drawer. It hadn't taken him long to realize her own potential. Within a year she was running half his business and taking on commissions of her own.

Those were the best four years. She made a name for herself doing something she truly enjoyed. But like most things in life, it didn't last long. Magnolia didn't survive Meteor, and once again she was without a job or a direction. She went back to Sol long enough to remember the reason why she left in the first place. Her parents. Luckily her grandparents decided that they were in the mood for a more tropical environment and offered their home in Kalm to her. So there she was, struggling to survive off the remaining gil she had left from her prosperous time in the city.

She hadn't admitted to anyone, not ever her best friend, that she was beginning to feel useless. She'd kept up an optimistic facade, making everyone around her believe that she didn't care much about how she was going to put food on the table and the such. But the worrier in her kept her up at night, whispering how it was time to grow up. The child in her was too stubborn to admit she really cared.

In the end, as she pulled fresh sheets from the upstairs linen closet, she decided there was no use in being upset with Lanice when she didn't have a clue she'd said anything to bother her. When she walked back into the room she put on a huge, albeit forced, smile and tossed the sheets onto the mattress. Lanice thanked her and went about making the bed. Reina just shook her head at her friend's determined look and went to clear out the closet.

It didn't take much longer to prepare the room for the new tenant. They had enough time to head into the kitchen and put another pot of water on the stove. She had just enough time to put away the cleaning bucket, rinse out her now empty mug, and sit down at the table when there was a knock from the front door.

"Hmm," Lanice looked up from the box of tea she was shifting through (decaf that was keep around just because she'd been pregnant most of her adult life and would drink nothing else without some amount of force.) "He's on time. I'm starting to like this guy already."

Reina was starting to rise from her chair, but the other woman had already shuffled out of the room and down the hall at a pace which was unnatural for anyone in her condition. Buy the time she was making her way out of the kitchen, Lanice had already opened the front door.

"You must be Mr. Valentine. I'm Lanice, Reina's babysitter. It's a pleasure to meet you."

She frowned at her words and watched as they shook hands and Lanice opened the door wider for him to walk through. He saw her standing there and nodded his head. She raised a brow but managed a smile despite her annoyance with his silence.

"We've got your room all set."

He nodded again, grabbing his single bag before Lanice could bend over fuller to get a hand on it. The two of them followed as he made his way down the hall to the spare bedroom.

"Are there any other bags on the porch? We can bring them in for you?"

He had just placed his suitcase gently on the bed. "I thank you for the offer, but there isn't anything else that needs to come in."

"Oh," Lanice said quietly. "We'll let us know if you need anything. We'll be right upstairs."

He nodded again as he crossed the room to the threshold.

"Thank you," he said, then promptly closed the door in their faces.

Lanice turned to her with wide, unbelieving eyes, pinching her arm as she did so. "Come on, I think the water should be ready."

"Ow," Reina muttered as she rubbed the spot and followed her back to the kitchen. She knew what the look mean. Lanice made her tea in record time, after which she beat her up the stairs to her room. They hadn't had a good gossip session in awhile, so she was actually in a rush to follow her. It was almost three before Lanice headed home. Mr. Valentine had yet to emerge from his room.

It wasn't until much later that night when Reina saw him again. The turkey she'd eaten for breakfast hadn't agreed with her much, and in a mad rush she encountered him coming out the bathroom. Blowing past him without so much as a glance, she flipped on the light switch and flung up the toilet seat. She had enough presence of mind to remember to close the door, and as she went to do so she found him still standing at the landing staring at her.

"Do yourself a favor and don't touch the sandwich meat in the fridge. I'm afraid it's no good."

The words were weak and forced,. He gave her a perplexed look that she didn't remember until the next day.

Slamming the door with a bang that resonated throughout the house, she spent the next few hours emptying her stomach contents into the cold, porcelain bowl.


End file.
